“I wouldn’t even know how to go about doing that these days,” Jim says on a sigh. He pushes his plate away. “Either of you want this? My appetite is gone.”
“I’ll take it,” Jett says, pulling the Reuben onto his plate.
“You’re going to get fat,” I remind him.
It gives Jett a moment’s pause, but then he shrugs and lifts the sandwich. It gets a chuckle out of Jim, which I’m glad to see. I don’t know how he’s going to go about fixing his problems, but speaking from a teammate’s point of view, he’s going to need to get his head straightened out with the start of the season, so he better figure out something soon.
CHAPTER 5
Mollie
Kane keeps glancing over the console as we drive. We’re going to The Sneaky Saguaro to meet up with some of his teammates for some food and drinks. We’ve got the radio cranked to some Fitz and the Tantrums, and the sunroof is open to let the warm Arizona night breeze in.
After about the fourth crane of his neck my way, I reach over and turn the volume down. “What?” I demand.
“Are you sure you’re up for going out tonight?” he asks.
No surprise in that question.
Since I told him about Matthew’s attack yesterday, Kane tends to look at me like I’m a piece of fragile glass getting ready to shatter. He didn’t even want to go out tonight with his friends, and I only found out about it by eavesdropping on a phone call a few hours ago when one called to see if he was coming out to join them.
The tone of his voice had been slightly apologetic but firm when he’d said, “No. I think Mollie and I are just going to hang at my place tonight. Have a quiet evening.”
When he hung up the phone, an argument had ensued.
“You had better not be putting your life on hold because of me,” I had accused.
From where he was lying on the couch with Samson at his feet, he leveled a mock glare. “I am doing no such thing.”
I’d been sitting on his loveseat, so I picked up a throw pillow and tossed it at his head. He, of course, deftly caught it.
“I am not something fragile you have to look after 24 seven,” I pointed out.
“Never said you were,” he replied.
“So go out with your friends tonight,” I urged with a hard look. “I’ll be fine hanging here with Samson.”
He pondered that before he suggested, “Would you like to go out with us?”
I brightened at the idea. I love hanging out with Kane, and I would like to meet his teammates. Over the years, I have come to understand and appreciate the men are more than just coworkers. Professional hockey players are, in fact, brothers.
“I would love to go.”
Yet Kane is still fretting over me, as evidenced by the glances he continues to throw my way. I love him for it. As my best friend, I would expect no different. And it’s not even annoying to me that he’s doing it. It’s endearing.
But I want him to stop because I don’t like him being worried.
Reaching out, I lay my hand on his forearm that’s resting on the console. I ignore the surprised jerk at my touch. “Kane… You are my brother from another mother. I want to spend as much time with you as I can, and I would love to meet your cronies. Besides, I have all kinds of embarrassing stories about you that I can tell them.”
Kane pulls his arm out from under my hand, putting it on the steering wheel and leaning his left arm on the windowsill. A subtle move, but it seems he didn’t like my touch. I try not to let it hurt my feelings, and I have to wonder why my touch would bother him. We’ve always had a lightly affectionate friendship. If we were ever out strolling along together, we would often hook elbows. Never hold hands, because that would speak to a level of intimacy that wasn’t there. Although deep down, admittedly, there are times with Kane that I have wondered what we would be like to be together on that level.
It just never seemed to be in the cards for us, and we had to be happy and content with what we had.
Settling back in the passenger seat, I say, “Tell me who’s going to be out with us tonight?”
Kane launches into a short history. He’s a center on the second line for the Arizona Vengeance. Although new to the team, having just been traded at the end of last season, I was impressed with how well he fit into not only his team, but also with the men on his second line. They were the ones meeting us tonight.
Kane told me about Jim Steele, his left-winger, and one of the older players on the team. He filled me in on his recent separation, and how he’s sharing custody of their daughter, Lucy. He even told me that Jim had seen his wife, Ella, today when they were out at lunch, and it rattled him. In contrast, the right-winger, Jett Olsson, a brash young Swede, had come with the warning he would most likely hit on me. I don’t have a problem with that. I’m all for fun and harmless flirting.
Finally, one of his defensemen on the second line, Bain Hillridge, was joining us as well. An affable sort who seems to just get along with everyone, Kane explains the man shuns the fame that sort of goes with the job.
“What about your other defenseman?” I ask. There would be another on the line.
Kane shrugs. “We haven’t met him yet. His name is Riggs Nadeau. He was traded to our team just this summer. I’ll meet him at training camp next week, but he’s got a bit of a reputation.”
“Like how?”
“Just that he’s a bit prickly and hard to get to know. We’ll try to find some common ground to make sure he fits in with us. Maybe next week I’ll invite him over to dinner to try to get to know him a little better.”
“I can make my famous tofu fajitas,” I suggest with a waggle of my eyebrows.
Kane’s head whips my way. “Will you be here next week?”
I throw it right back at him. “Do you want me here next week?”
He reaches across the console, switching hands on the steering wheel, and takes my hand in his. I’m the one who jerks from the contact this time, and he squeezes me. “Mollie… You can stay however long you want. I would love it if you stayed.”
His words touch me deeply. Next to my parents, he is the only person in this world I can count on for anything I might ever need or want.
“Now,” he drawls with a stern look. “There is no way in hell you are making tofu fajitas. I want the guy to like me, not hate me.”
We both laugh, and I promise I will make something acceptably edible for the hulking hockey players.
The Sneaky Saguaro is a pretty cool restaurant/bar Kane told me has become the official hangout of the Arizona Vengeance. It’s known for having practically every beer on tap imaginable and great Tex-Mex food. Amazingly, it has a live, towering saguaro cactus planted smack dab in the middle of the restaurant that extends upwards toward the second floor.
I’m no stranger to the fame that comes with a professional hockey player. I have been out with Kane on numerous occasions when he played with his other teams, and I’m well prepared for the people who flock to him wanting autographs and pictures. Given that the Vengeance just won the Cup championship, the crowds are even more dense the minute we walk in. I patiently wait as he attends to his fans, then he takes my hand in his to lead me up to the second floor where his friends Jim, Jett, and Bain are waiting for him at a table.